


Complexities in the Infrastructure

by ScripturePerfect99



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Family, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Latino Character, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mexican Character, Past Sexual Abuse, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripturePerfect99/pseuds/ScripturePerfect99
Summary: There are only so many moments where we feel truly alive, these are the moments our minds refuse to let go, regardless if they hurt or not. This is a series of short stories following the siblings of the Venniquin family and the complex webs of society, family and relationships they find themselves trapped in. This is the first, the book's namesake, following the middle child, Orion.





	1. Complexities in the Infrastructure

“Who cares if he’s sad? We’re all fuckin’ sad around here. I don’t give a shit.”  
“Cry baby. Get over yourself. Pinche idiota. Veta a la chingada…”  
“Pussy. I’d say you are what you eat, but you’ve never touched a girl have you? Your own mami probably didn’t wanna hold you.”  
“Fuck you. Fuck you and your little fairy ass. What are you a twink? You want me to fill you with my cream? It’ll be extra sweet just for you”  
“Huevón! Mira, why don’t you kill yourself already?! Pendejo!”  
New York has some weird buildings. Especially Poughkeepsie. They’re weird because they all look the same, but ya know, they’re different. They just feel different, smell different. Some bricks are dirtier than others, some bright and red, power washed to hell and back, some aren’t even brick cuz that’s ‘too urban’. Some of them are that boring, gloomy drywall, blank and ripe for vandalizing. In Poughkeepsie, they try to paint the pretty picture of a tourist site so they can replace the old viejas taking up property space.  
A lot of the buildings tower over you like teachers or the landlord. It makes you feel like a kid again, bein’ so damn small compared to this unnatural mass of a thing. It could crush you at any moment, your bones breaking under the weight of Man’s new Godly image. We’re so obsessed with our creations.  
The apartments are just like…mini versions of big buildings. Like Rockefeller and the Empire State. Not wide like the fat museums and pretentious art exhibits. Nah, these dirty little toddlers wanna be just like Mama and Papa. Big an’ important. But they have all kinds of shit on their face, parents too tired to clean them up or they haven't even noticed because the kid's sibling just tried to eat a battery. Again. But they love the new buildings, their new kids that are shiny and undamaged by forces beyond their control. They still love the older buildings, but they get less new shit and gotta settle with what they have, even if their infrastructure is compromised.  
The apartments also have what the landlord likes to advertise as balconies. These balconies that are small and practically useless, just a slab of metal and concrete hanging out from the place you sleep every night. The gallbladder of our walls, not useless enough to get rid of, you just have to wait until you grow out of it or it tries to kill you. There’s not enough room on these things for chairs or to sweep up the dried pigeon shit. You can probably put a little fuckin’ hanging pot out there but it’s pointless in the winter. They're not clean and decorated like the ones in the suburbs. Nah, they're just as dirty as the brick supporting them. They're pretty unstable too, for being the closest piece of the American Dream’s mandatory white picket fence. We get the black rusty metal fence instead.  
I like it. I think the only benefit of being as small as I am for a dude is that I fit perfectly on these balconies. It holds my weight and I can stick my arms and legs through the bars. Mom always said that was super dangerous and if I fall through, Skittles has to catch me, or he's grounded for three years.  
"I won't die; I'll land on my feet."  
"You're not Spider-Man, míjo."  
"I could be. You told me you never know until you try something.”  
She'd laugh. "I say that when you leave the meat on your plate.”  
“Ya know, I got by a spider last night.” I rose my hand to show her the little red bump on my skin.  
She rolled her eyes, directing a sneer towards Dad, hands on her hips in that disapproving mom-way.  
"I was a little busy keeping our pride and joy from smoking cigarettes again." Dad yanked my brother down by the hair. "Cabrón."  
“Mira, I wasn’t even gonna do it! Karmin said I didn’ ‘ave to…” “Why was it in your mouth then, pendejo?” Xavier was about to open his mouth to say something, but I felt Mama’s eyes dig into him like the little spider’s teeth. She had a way of making him shut up, especially when it came to Karmin. Mama was a cop and knew the Rodriguez family wasn’t the right box of toys for her baby boy. She had busted Karmin’s brother six times for selling booze to minors. Those minors included her son.  
Dad was on the same side. He called Karmin muy naco because she wore shirts that didn’t cover her midriff and he swore he could see her panties in those low-ride jeans. X said he just wanted to show off her belly button piercing, but Mama knew she wanted to show off her nalgas to horny teenage boys like X. The piercing was just to get attention.  
Dad and X yelled at each other a lot, mostly because when X met that vieja he did a 360 on the whole family. He started treating me like shit, yelling back at the twins and not following the rules our parents put in place. The Venniquins are a well-oiled machine controlled by a police officer and an agent of the government. He was really just a resource analyst, but when we were little he liked to pretend he did more than plan with the actual agents out in the field of...terrorism I guess.  
He never yelled at me, though. I was his little star.  
“Why did you name me Orion?” I was six I think.  
He never gave me the answer I wanted. He always said I was good. Shining, brilliant, all that dad-bullshit. I don’t know if he meant it. Whenever I asked that question, he stared at me for a while, like you do when you see a baby taking their first steps with their stupid little baby feet. I wonder if he thought about my stupid little baby feet whenever he looked at me. He’d run his hand through my mop of hair and kiss me on the forehead.  
“Because we knew you were gonna be somethin’ special, míjo.”  
I wonder if he’d say that now. I know he wouldn’t be proud. I know he’d try to find someone else to blame, probably X or he’d reprimand Skittles for not keeping a closer eye out. He loved me more, gave me more attention when he could. But it’s not like it was easy with the twin pistols in the house, I like to call ‘em pinche rateros, and problem child #1 ruining everything for us. Being problem child #3 wasn’t a major issue to anyone.  
I smiled, leaning against the rusting railing. I miss them. I miss the way Mama laughed when Dad agreed with her. I miss the way he would pull us into full body hugs, lifting us off our feet and kissing our cheeks until he ran out of breath. I miss the way she would sing to the songs in telenovela attempting to force us to learn some spanish.  
In Poughkeepsie, five kids was…too much. Xavier, Skittles, me, Rocky and little Miss. Surprise, Rainna. We all fed into the latino stereotype that they have too many kids, but Mama combatted it by swinging her handcuffs around her index finger. A lot of people cringe at the thought of more than three kids (I cringe at the thought of more than zero), but they were the few people who weren’t afraid of handling it. It felt like Cat and HJ Venniquin were built to be parents.  
We all had our roles, we all had our jobs. X was supposed to be in charge, Skittles helping, I was supposed to be a good role model for the twins and spend time with them like a good big brother. It doesn’t sound like much, but it was a bitch. But on the bright side, we all had Mama and Dad’s support. They worked their asses off for us and we couldn’t do much but return the favor. I miss the stories Dad told us about work, the fake mission names he’d make up. I miss Mom's lectures to X that became full on presentations for the whole family to hear.  
“¡Órale! Pinche naco! You’re the oldest! You should know better! Don’t make Shane do everything!” She was the only one who said Skittles’ real name in front of him. “I named you, so I’m gonna say your name, dammit. I didn’t go through hours of listening to Nurse fresa and your Dad crying next to me just to call you some goofy lil’ name your sister came up with. The least you can give me is your name, míjo.”  
And he did. With her last breath, she called him Shane. Through burnt skin and glass in her cheeks, her lips bleeding and dripping like she was drowning.  
“Shane Antonio Venniquin...you’re the...best of all of us…”  
I think that’s when he started to be more okay with it. I think that’s when he started to savor it. I think that’s when he started to build the wall around himself, tossing flowers over the top when we tried to climb over. She was the last one he spoke to before we watched her choke on her own blood. Skittles didn’t drive a car for more than a year.  
It was my fault. I should’ve told him what I saw. Mama told me to write down my dreams whenever they’re too scary or too real. I couldn’t pick up my notebook during this one though. It was like I was sitting in the car with her, watching the semi pass then flip right over our silver mini van. She had Dad’s best suit pressed in the back, ready to show it to the mortician when the explosion blasted our car forward. Her black clothes were instantly stained red with her own blood. She was melting like the candles in church. I cried when I woke up that morning. I cried and didn’t stop until Skittles burst in and hugged me tight.  
I pressed my hands into the rusty rail and lifted myself off the balcony floor, feet floating a few centimeters off the ground. The rail creaked and threatened me, but I just stared down at the dirty concrete below.  
It was gonna hurt that's for damn sure. Hopefully just a second of hurt.  
We had a fight again. X almost killed me the way he threw me against that wall. Rainna stood her ground between us. He wouldn’t hit her. She barked as loud as she could to mask the cracks in her voice. She was a loaded gun you didn’t want to play with. Rocky wasn’t any better but he never took it out with fists. Those rateros hogged all of Mama and Dad’s attention. I wonder if they miss it. I wonder if that’s why she’s so angry.  
It was over the same thing. X said said I couldn’t call Karmin a crack whore anymore, not in his house. I told him Mama told me not to lie and that this house belonged to her and Dad. The dead aren't completely gone, and his huevon pussy pocket didn’t even deserve to even look at the front door. She had disgraced our name too many times. She insulted me every chance she had, shutting X up whenever he tried to get her to tone it down.  
“No manches! You think this faggot is for real?” She smacked the back of his head. “Idiota! You don’t know life like I do. None of ya’ll do. Your Mama handed it all to you while she locked up Juanito-”  
“For sellin’ drugs, you dumb fuckin’ bitch.” Rainna chimed in.  
Karmin pulled her shoulders back. “What you call me?”  
“You got ears, vieja.”  
“Aye, watch your fuckin’ mouth.” X decided to defend his whore.  
I decided to defend my sister. “Metiche.”  
“Qué eso?”  
I never looked at him, but my words were biting. I stood up to put my plate on the counter, staring at the barely touched rice and pastelles. “Stop using the fucking textbook Spanish telenovela taught you and defend your familia.”  
“Don’t tell me what to do-”  
Karmin stepped up to me. “Yeah, you fuckin’ faggot.”  
“Fuckin’ faggot…” X parroted with less confidence.  
She put a hand on me. “Sit down and eat your fucking pastelles.”  
“How can he?” Rocky stood up, snatching a warm tortilla and folding it. “Your fatass practically ate the whole fuckin’ table.”  
“¡No me chingues, ratero!” She turned back to me, the smell of her cig breath making my nose burn. “Quit tryna make ‘em pity you. It ain’t ever gonna happen.”  
I swallowed hard, gritting my teeth, feeling the blood in my veins start to boil. My heart beating faster as insult after insult dug into me like the glass in Mama’s skin. It soon became white noise that punched me in the chest whenever Karmin’s tongue snapped against her teeth. Her glazed eyes terrified me. The whole of my body wanted to scream, rip at my flesh until I heard the sound of nail against bone.  
As much as I hated her, Karmin was right. It was my own fault I was tired all the time. I wasn’t eating so I could get attention. I wasn’t eating so they would see me. Or at least watch me disappear.  
They didn’t need me there. The twins were already too much for Skittles to keep up with, X not helping in the slightest. As much as Skittles tried to love me like the twins, he had no time. It was like he just went through the motions without any emotion, just his mask of a smile. He tried to make sure I ate everyday, but sometimes he forgot. Or didn’t bother. No one else tried because I was too resistant.  
My legs started to tingle, my heart racing so fast I thought they could see it through my shirt. Everything was blurred, even the salt shaker I tried to focus on to stay grounded. I tried to stop my hands from shaking once I realized they were, Karmin’s insults echoing in my head.  
Stupid.  
Useless.  
Anorexic baggage.  
Faggot.  
Cry baby.  
I wanted to be with Mama again. I wanted to be in that hospital bed, drown in my own blood until I saw her face again, her crooked smile and cinnamon hands caressing my face. We would be happy and X wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. Skittles wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. The twins wouldn’t have to…  
“PINCHE GACHO!” Rainna screamed. “Leave him the fuck alone!” She stood up, grabbing Karmin by the fat arm, yanking her out of the dining room and towards the door.  
Karmin barely budged when she got on her feet. “You dumb bitch-”  
“Get the fuck out!” Rocky shoved the table. “Out! Out! Get out!”  
X stepped in front of me, teeth bared. “You fuckin idiot…  
“Qué pedo wey?” I mumbled quietly. It wasn’t meant to be posed as a threat, but it was enough for him.  
I felt his hot breath huff in my face like a bull before he lunged at me, his fist knocking me in the chest before my back hit the wall. Skittles yelled something but my ears rang with the impact my head had just dealt with. I don't know why he puts in that much strength when he kicks my ass, I barely weigh anything. But I guess he knows that. I'm an easy target, the smallest, quietest most useless of all the Venniquin kids.  
The only good part is that it makes the rest of them hate him. When we had Mom and Dad, they were the unstoppable forces and X was the immovable object. But now, it’s the other way around. He was the chaos Skittles couldn’t even control.  
X slammed me against the wall about three times before Skittles grabbed him by the jacket and pulled back as hard as he could. “Oye! Calm down!”  
“Did you hear what he fuckin said to me?!” He tried to shove his way through his taller younger brother.  
Part of me hoped that Skittles hated him because of this. I actually don't think Skittles can hate anyone. He can get really mad but that's it. He’ll do anything to make up with family. There’s probably not enough room in his heart to hate. But there might be a tiny special part for Karmin.  
It feels like he hides a lot with his heart on his sleeve.  
Rocky and Rainna shoved Karmin's fat ass out the door and I ran upstairs as fast as I could, listening to X struggle to get past Skittles. Everything Skittles does, he tries to be like Mama and Dad. But he can’t. He doesn’t fucking get that he can’t ever be like Mama and Dad. He’s Shane Antonio Venniquin. He’s Shane Antonio fucking Venniquin and that’s never gonna change, even if he does try to feed me when I don't wanna eat, even if he does drive the twins to therapy, he can’t be Mom. Even if he holds X’s wrists down when he’s about to hit me or even when he cusses Karmin out in Spanish, he can’t be Dad.

I locked the door behind me, shaking and sinking to the floor. My nails reached for my wrists and I started scratching at the fresh scars, my head still ringing from X’s blows. I hate X. I hate him. I hate him because he's everything Mama told him not to be. Dad tried his best to lure him away from all the wannabe cholo bullshit, but that crack snorting slut dirtied him like the bricks in our building and made his heart just as solid. It made him run away. He felt like the only problem child in this problem family.  
I can never forget when he gets mad at me. Usually because it ends in a punch or a hard shove into the wall. But the dumbest reason he got heated was cuz he saw a hickey on my neck and deemed me too young to be doing that shit, despite everyone wanting to take a ride on the X-flight before he graduated. But what he didn't know was that it wasn't my fault. What he didn’t know is that people still kick me around, even when he does threaten them. His words mean nothing to their actions.  
I didn't even want it there. I wanted to rip the skin off like a bandage. Some of the cocky fucks at school, the ones who call me a bitch and a fairy, snatched me by the backpack and started feelin' me up like a single girl at homecoming behind the track bathroom. I couldn't even push them off because I was way too light headed to try. I hadn’t eaten all day. Again. I think I was quietly hoping my lack of reaction would bore them, a monotone expression that showed no emotion would receive no emotion back then they’d try to find some other dude to rag on.  
But they kept going. They stuck their slimy hands up my shirt, touched my spine and cackled when I lurched forward, blushing. They made me put my hands on their crotches to see if that would make me hard. When that didn't work, one of them pressed me against the wall with his body and started to lick my neck. He moved on to sucking and groping my ass until they heard a car honk and ran off like cockroaches.  
I stood against the wall, still smelling their rancid breath, a mix of sweat and hormonal rage, the breeze sending a shiver through me when it scraped against the wet spot on my neck. I wanted to stop breathing right then. Just collapse on the floor in a heap of death and never be harassed like this again.  
But I went home to get my ass kicked by my drunken brother.  
Skittles couldn’t even stop him because he wasn’t home. He wasn’t home. X got a few punches in because he wasn’t home. Rainna had to stop X because he wasn’t home. I can still taste the metal of his ring on my bottom lip because he wasn’t home. He was picking up Rocky from therapy.  
I lifted myself up on the rail again, leaning over the edge then putting my feet up. It stopped screeching when both feet were on its rusted surface. It would break at any second, it just didn’t want to let me know.  
Everything that touches this house keeps a secret from me. So I keep secrets from it. I knew Mama and Dad would die. I watched it like a movie trailer that I refused to record in a journal my shitty therapist gave me. I went into their bedroom instead and stared at the sword above the bed frame. Dad said it was better than a gun. I’m too short to reach it.  
Skittles keeps the medicine cabinet locked up after a close call with Rainna and his sleeping pills.  
I think about Dad’s sword a lot and what kind of monstrosities he fought with it. Were they worse than what haunts my dreams?  
Or were they the manifestation of true horror?  
What did he think when he was dying?  
Did he wish he had it?  
Or did he think about Mama?  
I heard the railing screech again, the high-pitched industrial sound that means you really need to do some renovation. If it broke, that'd be a lot of money, since we rent this place. Skittles already works two jobs. Rocky works part-time at the auto shop but Skittles doesn’t want him to drop out like he did so he could work.  
Skittles didn’t wanna play parent.  
He didn’t want to take care of us.  
Neither did X. But he made it obvious.  
I leaned forward, my toes pointing towards the cement, my heels slowly lifting off the railing as the fall breeze kissed my face. I imagined it was Mama welcoming me to the Sanctuary Dad told us stories about.  
“We’re different, mijo. I know your dreams are scary, but you’re a born warrior. We all are. Our family is dedicated to the Sanctuary.”  
“What’s the Sanctuary, Papi?”  
“It’s where your abuela went. It’s where her tio went. It’s our own heaven, mijo.”  
The dreams couldn’t follow me in death.  
Karmin couldn’t hurt me with her words when I wasn’t there to hear them.  
I’d see Mama and Dad again.  
We’d dance in a mystic meadow above the clouds.  
I fell forward, the breeze getting sharper as I sped towards the cement.  
But I immediately felt the wind get yanked out of me. The collar of my shirt choked me and I wondered if that would be better than crashing into concrete. I opened my eyes and saw the ground, still far below. My breath was tight and cornered, my body struggling to get enough air in my lungs. It was either out of fear, shock or disappointment. I glanced up and saw Skittles gripping my arm with both hands.  
"What're you doing…?" Resentment started to fill my chest.  
He took a few steps back, his sneakers scraping against the concrete balcony. "Not letting you fall."  
I wanted to bite his hands so he would let me go. It would be better for him. But he pulled me up with a painful yelp, using his left arm to pull me back into the building. He gripped his right arm, slouched over, cinnamon skin and faded blue hair turning him pale. I sat on the balcony, scooting into a corner. I broke his arm.  
“Orio…” He gasped. “What…? Qué es…?”  
“I’m sorry…” I knew what was gonna happen next.  
“You…” He had so much more to say but the pain was taking most of his energy. “In...inside…”  
I stood slow, dragging my feet in the house, Dad’s sword staring at me. I knew what was gonna happen next. And I didn’t want it. He would be assuring me that everything was gonna be okay when it wasn’t, I wanted to die and that was it. It would make his life so much easier, I wouldn’t be in this much pain and neither would he. But quietly, I knew he’d blame himself.  
Everyone would blame everything else besides me.  
He leaned against the wall where we still had a landline, sliding down before elbowing it with his good arm so the phone would fall into his reach. I heard beep boop boop.  
911.  
“What’s your emergency?”  
His breath was heavy. “I just caught my brother trying to commit suicide.”  
“I-I’m sorry…” I muttered. “I’m sorry…” My ears were clogged up with my fear, staring at my older brother who just wanted to help me, protect me, but got fucked up in the process.  
This is why, Shane. This is why I can’t stay.  
“Hey, hey…” He crawled towards me as best he could, his coffee eyes tired but sweet.  
I scrambled backwards like a scared puppy. “No...lo siento, hermano…”  
“No hay bronca…” He tried to reach for me again. “It’ll be okay…”  
He sat that same distance away from me until we heard sirens. I didn’t know what he was gonna tell the twins or X, I didn’t want to know. He rested his arm on his leg taking slow inhales as he quietly muttered to the sky. He was talking to Mama and Dad, I knew it. I didn’t want to know what he was saying. I didn’t want to know what they would be thinking right now.  
The paramedics us in seperate gurneys, closing the back of the ambulance gently, like it was gonna hurt us too. I hugged myself, not wanting to look at my brother but my eyes were stuck. It was my fault he looked like that. It was my fault that he wasn’t gonna be able to do his favorite things. He wasn’t gonna drum, he wasn’t gonna fake wrestle with Rainna, he wasn’t gonna play Wii tennis, it was all because of me. I wanted to tell him that’s why he should’ve let me go.  
“Oye,” He didn’t look at me. “Stop thinking. I’m fine.”  
“Son unas mamadas…”  
He snickered, his dimples peeking out with his half-smile. “Hermano. Te quiero mucho…”  
“You shouldn’t…”  
“Cállete. Te quiero mucho. Mi familia…” He sighed, a bleached piece of hair falling into his face. “I know I can’t always be there. But I love you. And I’ll never stop loving you, even if you hate me, I’ll still love you.” He shifted then winced at the pain. “Mama told me I was the best of all of us. I try to believe that because it feels like the only thing that keeps me goin’. But you, you’re their little star. They saw what was great in you, that’s why Dad explained why he got that sword. He knows there’s great power in there.” He chuckled. “You’re probably matched with Rainna. But you gotta pull through, mi cielito.”  
I felt my throat close up. “I…” I grit my teeth, realizing that if any other noise came out of my mouth it’d turn into a sob. I hadn’t heard that since I fell off my bike when I was ten. Mama came out of the house and scooped me up like I was still a baby, kissing away my tears as Dad lifted the bike into the house. She sat me on the counter and rubbed my hair as Dad poured alcohol on a paper towel to clean off my bleeding leg.  
Skittles smiled again. I didn’t see it, but I felt the warmth of it. He wasn’t mad at me, not that he was easy to read, but this I was proud to say I could detect. I felt such a squirming guilt in my throat that I wanted to fall to my knees and apologize until my throat bled, I didn’t understand how he could be this way. How he could still be this way after all the bullshit me and the others put him through. How did it not drive him insane? How did he keep all this fucking love in his heart for a family that had lost all of it when Mama passed? He was an amazing feat of humanity, I guess. Just another wonder of the world that I’ll never understand, but I must appreciate.  
We didn’t talk the rest of the way, he knew I didn’t want to. Or more like I couldn’t. I hated crying in front of him or any of the others. As weak as I knew I was, I didn’t wanna seem weaker. So I cried in silence usually. The only time I really let loose was at Mama and Dad’s funerals. I wanted to rip the priest to shreds and tell him there was no Heaven they were going to. There was no Hell. We’re less human than his God has presented us as and it’s none of our faults.  
Appropriately, with Rainna’s sobs, she caused a massive storm. I sometimes wonder if Mama knew she was gonna have twins and one was gonna be the literal manifestation of depressing weather. But she acted surprised anyway, she told us, when Rainna was born.  
The ambulance pulled into the hospital parking lot and we were wheeled out. They took Skittles somewhere seperate because he had a physical injury. Which makes sense, now that I think about it but I felt myself regress into a four-year-old, my chest tightening with panic and tears filling my eyes as he was wheeled away.  
“It’s okay, Orio!” He called as best he could. “No hay bronca! You’ll be fine! Te quiero mucho!”  
I forced words out of my mouth but it sounded more like an animal shrieking in pain. “Te quiero mucho, hermano-!” Then the tears poured down my face like the needles in my voice busted a compromised water balloon. I covered my face so the paramedics and other hospital staff wouldn’t see, gripping the sleeves of my sweater so they wouldn’t fall. My heart was racing faster than the wind that hit my face as I started to fall, salty tears falling into my mouth and snot covering the black sweater.  
I started hyperventilating to the point where one of the paramedics walked up to me and tried to shush me like a puppy. I didn’t hear what she said but I knew it was the basic stuff, the protocol they have to follow when a teenager is panicking in the hospital.  
“It’ll be okay. This is going to help you, I promise. You’ll be fine.”  
No hay bronca. 

They made me take off all my clothes and took things out of my pockets while I stood there crying. There were two security officers making sure I didn’t bring anything sharp or poisonous so I could kill myself when they put me in my room. They gave me a hospital gown as they looked through my pants and hoodie, calling out the objects like “One pen. One debit card.” Shit like that.  
I sat in the emergency room for a long time. Longer than I wanted. My head hurt from crying and my eyes burned from wiping them too hard. I gazed around the hectic place, not realizing how busy they can get at 8 pm. There were little kids crying, adults crying, old people crying, it was a symphony of terrified sobs and desperate attempts to leave. I sat in the chair security pointed me to, rocking back and forth as my heart tried to escape my chest. I hated that they could all see my arms and the bags under my puffy cheeks. It feels like they always know why a scrawny long-haired teenager is in the emergency room. But if they did, they should do something about the lives they’re putting kids like me in and try to make it better.  
But nobody cares. We’re just pretentious, selfish kids who don’t know what real life is.  
I heard a lady scream behind me, causing me to jump and shake my leg hard. I whimpered, covering my face with my hair as I waited for the screaming to stop. This was the definition of agony. I just wanted to see my brother, say I’m sorry and keep going to therapy. I should’ve promised him I would keep going to therapy.  
“Orion?” A young man in blue scrubs walked up to me. “Hi, my name is Aaron. Can you come with me for just a sec?”  
I nodded slowly and followed him to one of the cubicles that they cover with a curtain. He slid it closed then sat down in front of me and started asking questions about my medical history. Allergies, surgeries, all that wonderful shit. I shook my head at most of the questions.  
“Okay well, we’re going to have to draw some blood from you-” He stopped short when he saw me try to back further into the chair. I hate needles.  
“No, no it’ll just be real quick!” He promised.  
I guess medical professionals are great at breaking those. He had to hold me down in a chair while I cried and swore in spanish, another nurse having to draw the blood. I felt feral but in the least menacing way possible. Aaron was twice my height and could probably throw me across the room. No matter how hard I thrashed, I didn’t move and they got their blood.  
When Aaron let me go I put my hands on my head and started calling for my brother. I kept telling him that it was my fault he got hurt and that I needed to make it up to him, despite me having no idea how. Even if I wasn’t in that situation, I wouldn’t know how to say “Sorry for trying to kill myself and breaking your arm in the process.”  
Aaron led me to an office where an old white lady sat at her computer. A security guard, bigger than Aaron stood near the door so I wouldn’t try to plan an escape. The lady explained that they were going to keep me for a couple days and I broke down in more sobs, spit flying out of my mouth as I explained that I couldn’t do that. I had to make it up to my brother. I had to say I’m sorry and make sure he was okay. She smiled sweetly and said that I need to worry about myself first and that this was life or death.  
“Lo siento, Mami…” I hugged my arms. “Lo siento, Papi...hermano...hermana…”  
The room wasn’t nice. It literally looked like a prison cell, but Aaron made sure I was comfortable. I had a roommate that I barely saw, the only time I did was during lunch where he tried to hit another patient with his tray and the security had to hold him down. I think they might’ve moved him to another floor.  
I spent most of my time sleeping in the room and having quiet breakdowns as I thought about the consequences I’d have to face when I got home. I didn’t want to face X or the twins, mostly because I didn’t want their sympathy. It was a terrifying thought to be near X at all but it was scarier to face my younger siblings. I love them too much to explain, Rainna had already faced this and she was still not fully better. I didn’t wanna make her worse.  
“I want to go home!” I screamed at the barred windows. “I want to go home, now! I’ll go to therapy, I’ll take meds, I’ll do whatever, just let me go home!” I hit things like Rocky used to, kicking the dresser and bed frame, punching my pillows and screaming into them. The nurses tried to calm me down but I did this every day during the first week.  
The second week I went quiet. I slept most of the time, asking for sleeping pills so I didn’t have dreams. I didn’t wanna see what the future had in store for me, so I dry swallowed the pills then the nurses would force me to drink water and say never to do that again. I stared out the window a lot, trying to look for any sign of life. But I was on the fourth floor, any sign of life would be a spider or a gnat. Guess that was all I was worth, Mother Nature was too busy to show me anything else.  
Poughkeepsie has some ugly buildings. That was all I could see. Ugly, dirty roofs with rusty fans and ventilation systems. As beautiful as it was in pamphlets, it was an underwhelming reality. All those big tourist cities don’t give a shit about the people who actually live there. They adore the expensive white families from middle america buying cheaply made souvenirs at museum gift shops, yelling at their kids not to touch stuff and sleeping in hotel beds that costs enough to feed half the homeless outside our door.  
I did think about killing myself again, but only once. It was after a dinner of cheap salmon and mushy rice. I got immediately nauseous, hot and cold at the same time. They took my blood pressure one more time before bed and I puked on the floor. I started crying, rocking back and forth on my heels as I apologized profusely. The nurses told me to just get in the shower then go to sleep. I would be okay.  
The shower was freezing, the thin skin on my bones being barely enough to protect my nerves from the cold. I put my head against the wall, letting the water roll down my back and started thinking about those sleeping pills. It wouldn’t work because I have to take every pill they give me in front of them, there was no way I could hoard enough to kill me. Next I thought about the sheets, If I just pulled them off and rolled them tight, there’s a pipe in the activity room. Or even in the shower, if I made it tight enough. Or I could ask to borrow a plastic fork and dig into my eye sockets with it.  
I took a sleeping pill and slept until 4:00 p.m the next day.  
“I want my big brother…” I told myself. “I wanna see Skittles…” I sat on the floor, tracing the wood with my finger. I felt like a kid again.  
He called a lot. Every single day, he called me and asked if I was alright. He promised he would make my favorite foods for two weeks when I get back, the same amount of time I was staying there. I told him they said they were going to discharge me on Monday.  
“Do you feel better?”  
“I dunno.”  
“Orion,” He sighed. “Please…”  
“I feel better than I did. But I hate group therapy.”  
“You hate group anything.”  
“No…” I shuffled my feet. “I like it when we do group stuff…”  
“Oh yeah? Ya don’t act like it!” He laughed.  
“I just have a naturally broody face I guess.”  
“Yeah, yeah. Hey ya know, Rocky got Nathalie a dress for homecoming.”  
“That’s sweet…” I smiled at the thought of my little brother holding hands with his junior high sweetheart at a high school homecoming dance.  
“He’s doing a lot better. Stopped breaking his stuff.”  
“I know. I’m happy.”  
“Oye, Orio?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m lookin’ to get you a better therapist. Yours clearly isn’t doing a good job…”  
“Mm…” I nodded.  
“And.”  
Oh god. “And what?”  
“I’m signing us up for family therapy okay? We have a lot to let out, but we won’t communicate unless we’re mad. That’s no good.”  
“Okay…”  
“Hey, you said you like it when we do group stuff.”  
“I do but what does X think about it?”  
“Whatever you’re thinking, he probably already said it. I don’t care though. He’ll realize this is good for us.”  
“What if he doesn’t show up?”  
“He’ll show up alright. You know he can’t beat my headlock.”  
I snickered, leaning my head against the wall. Hearing him joke around like he does made me so much...happier. Just hearing his voice gave me a shot of hope, something I didn’t feel when he would talk to me before. But I guess, being in that place I felt alone and hopeless. My mind had regressed into survival mode, searching for anything familiar. It was nice to hear the sweet sound of Skittles.  
They discharged me at noon on Monday. I walked out of the hospital to see all four of them there, X missing his signature cigarette but not his scowl. There wasn’t a ‘NO BROODING’ sign I guess.  
None of us said anything before I got toe to toe with them. We have this way of staring at each other like feral cats until one of us makes a non-threatening move, then the rest follow suit. Usually, it would be Skittles, but this time it was my little sister. She pulled me forward and squeezed, making me stand on my toes. Her hair tickled my neck as I heard her inhale deeply and cry into my shoulder. Rainna was like me in that she hated when people saw her cry. It was mostly because she was the only girl and wanted to appear as tough as her older brothers, but this was different. Rocky hugged me next, the rateros engulfing me in a leather-bound embrace.  
It was off-putting, but with that feeling of slight uncomfortableness came love. It filled my chest, overflowing into the rest of me until it had nowhere to go but out of my eyes. My crying cued Rocky, knowing his big brother was crying in public was enough of an excuse for him to do it. The longer they hugged me, the more of their scent filled my nose. They use the same shampoo and conditioner, their choice being the fresh scent of coconut and rose. Then Rocky pours on his fresh scented cologne to make a weird but pleasant scent party. But I guess as long as Nathalie likes it, that’s okay.  
“Mira, don’t choke him!” Skittles finally said, hitting the top of the van. “Let’s go, we got reservations.”  
X raised an eyebrow. “Where?”  
I saw Skittles smile when the twins let me go, all three of us quickly wiping our faces. Rainna hopped into the front seat and pulled down the mirror to make sure her eyeliner was still sharp. I was the only one who knew that Skittles buys her waterproof everything. As tough as she thinks she is, she cries just as much as the rest of us.  
“Oye, wherever you want, bro.” Skittles watched me climb into the backseat.  
I watched my younger siblings get into the car after me, X sliding into the very back seat before I finally said: “Aye, Cheesecake Factory.”  
The twins hit the ceiling of the car three times and whooped, Skittles rolling his eyes but not upset. They were excited, they had the right to be. X gave half a half smile and nodded, looking out the window.  
Rocky’s blue eyes glanced at him, rolled then targeted the radio. He squeezed between Skittles and Rainna and selected track number 4, pressing play on whatever CD was in there. I saw Rainna grin when she heard the guitar and weird vocal stylings of Shakira, looking over at me with that “Pleeeaaassse!!” face.  
We sang along to Wherever, Whenever the Spanish version, the rateros dancing in their seats and X mouthing the words as he stared out the window. Every red light, we got attention from the other cars, but that just made Skittles and the twins roll down the windows and sing even louder. We had a dance choreographed to this song just to drive Mama insane on road trips. We were all in sync for once, even X showing off what the Venniquins could do. I hadn’t laughed that hard with them in a long time.  
When we were in the parking lot of the blessed factory of cheesecake, Skittles stopped me, letting X and the twins go on ahead. He put both hands on my shoulders. “I told you, you’d be okay.”  
“I know.”  
“You just gotta listen…” He ran his hand through my hair. “You’re stubborn like Mami.”  
“....No hay bronca?” I looked up at him with big eyes.  
He gave me an easy laugh. “Sí. No hay bronca.”


	2. Your Hero is a Mythomaniac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skittles didn't sign up to be the new Mom and Dad. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that his siblings see him that way. It ruins his vibe, scares him a little. No one can be like Mom and Dad, especially not the kawaii tumblr boy mess that he accidentally embodies. He just likes piercings. And hair dye. And being vegan. Okay, he might be a little bit of a tumblr boy. Follow him through his day to day trying to contain the wild twin pistols, his precious little brother Orio and the hectic Xavier.

Your Hero is a Mythomaniac  
By Zoe Elerby

June sixth, two-thousand twelve. You get a slip from your teacher, telling you to bring your stuff to the office. Uncle Ricky is picking you up. You haven't seen Uncle Ricky in a while, not since Dad's funeral. They were in training together, but Dad joined the CIA and Rick joined the military. They were best friends, you think. 

Now here you are, sitting in the passenger seat with the man who told you to remember that weed is a hook-up, not a marriage. He's in his uniform. And he ain't talkin', just starin’ straight ahead, the deep brown in his face a shade lighter like he just saw a ghost. You hope the ghost was Dad. That would mean you still have a chance to see him again.   
You assume Ricky is taking you to the hospital. Taking you to another therapy session you forgot about, but the car halts at home. The beige siding looks grey under a malicious sky, the clouds completely consuming the sunshine. You hope it's just the weather and not your little sister freaking out. When she's having a rainy day, she usually makes sure everyone else does.  
You sit down, next to Orion. X is standing, his feet are anxious and he's biting his nails. It's what he does when he can't smoke. Rocky is holding down Rainna's wrists, two identical faces showing you the same dread you saw outside. You were right about the weather.   
"Mama's dead."   
Crash. The lamp. Thunk. The coffee table at the wall. You listen to your family scream, frustrated Spanish mixed with accents from a city you have never seen. Kicks and punches to whatever was in their way, infuriated sniffling echoing through the house and stiffened wails of pain. You can barely see them.  
So it happened again. You never get a break. The wires in their heads all snapped, sparks starting a fire. Yours snapped too, but it was just a blackout.   
*****************************************************************************  
I pull at my earlobes, the inflamed skin protests, but I wanna get a better look. I look like the cutie vegan boys you find on hipster chick’s blogs, only browner, with that sloping nose Mami had and the piercing brown eyes Dad gave me. A little stubble never hurt either, revealing my natural hair color that clashed with the bright magenta I was working within the strands of my thick hair. The girls on the cheerleading team said this wannabe punk rock thing wasn't really gonna work for me, but I wanna keep the family brand alive. They wouldn’t get it, I think. X has a mess of piercings, tattoos, doing everything in his power to not look like Dad. Orio is too scared of tattoos, but I told him he could get one whenever he wanted. He's always doodling on his hands, I figured he'd want somethin’ on his arm. It’s like a family tradition. Mami had a few on her legs and back, Dad had some on his chest and arms. The twins are pumped to get theirs, they’ve got a list going.   
I have one; a little pair of gardenia's with their stems tied together, five petals falling tenderly towards my heart. The stems have Mami and Dad's name, and the petals have ours. I don't think I want anymore. X told me it was sappy and get somethin’ else, but I'd rather have the names of my family than a flaming dog skeleton. Can't judge him though, we've all been too high to say no at some point.   
The gauges didn't kill me, but Rocky was about to puke. I picked him up after group therapy with Rainna and they weren't talking, so I figured someone said something that made the other one think of something that they had solved a long time ago, so they got angry again and started fighting about that something. The cyclical struggle of the twin pistols, I gotta say. If they can't keep the bullets to themselves, they're gonna end up shooting each other. I made Rocky stay in the car and told Rainna to make sure Orion had eaten.   
"Why can't he text you?"  
"Why don't you text me when you get into fights?"  
"I'd get in trouble?" She said it like I wasn’t makin’ sense.  
"So would he if he didn't eat," Rocky interjected, his eyes locked on his phone. "Don't be a dumbass."  
Rainna growled. "I wasn't talkin' to you."  
"You asked a question."  
"I didn't ask you, Pendejo."  
"Yeah, well I answered, perra. Move it."  
“¡Órale!” I called. “Save it for homework time.”  
"Pinche ratero.” Rainna hissed, tugging at her cropped leather.   
“Te ves muy naco con eso, perra-”   
“¡No mames!” She grabbed his phone, holding it above her face like she was gonna chuck it hard into the cement.   
Rocky unbuckled his seat belt and leaned out of the car. “Oye! Give it back!”   
“Take it back.”   
“¡No me chingues! Rainna, I’m gonna break ya fuckin’ NOSE. Give it BACK!”  
“Make me, bitch!” Rainna faked dropping it, her face dripping with a sassy expression.   
Rocky hopped out of the car and stood above her as menacingly as he could, disregarding the height difference between them, little sister or not, he was gonna kick her ass. Rainna didn’t budge except for the smirk on her face for riling him up. With that, I stepped out and snatched the phone from her.   
“Take a cold shower, ratero numero dos.” I tossed Rocky’s phone into the passenger seat, ignoring the blast of messages from Purple Heart emoji Nat Pink Heart emoji.   
Rainna didn’t budge, the twins having a staring match to the death. I sighed, leaning on the steering wheel until the car let out a loud honk, one of those long ones like when the driver passes out on the steering wheel. I pressed my elbows deeper into it, glaring at Rainna from the rearview mirror. She clenched her fists until they shook, black hair falling over her eyes. She stormed (heh) inside in a huff, embarrassed. Not like I woke the whole neighborhood, we hear honks every day. As cute as Poughkeepsie is, it’s anything but quiet.   
“Get in, Rock,” I cracked my fingers. “I wanna get a piercing.”  
“You? A piercing?” He snorted, closing the door. “Where, exactly?”   
“Gauges.”  
He laughed. “Ohhh so sexy~. Who you tryna impress?”  
I smiled to myself, knowing damn well if I said there wasn’t anyone, which there wasn’t, he wouldn’t believe me. “You wouldn’t know ‘em.” I backed out of the driveway and headed East.   
Rainna never texted me about her brother, so when we got home, I gave Rocky some cold water and made Orio some pasta.   
“I’m gonna barf.” Rocky groaned.   
“Toilets exist, use it.” I peppered the noodles real quick before running towards the stairs. It's a good start, tastes like nothing and doesn't take too long. Before I bring the bowl upstairs, I see a grocery bag full of snacks I forgot to put away. I bring those up with me too.  
I quietly open the sharpie covered door. It's got all kinds of doodles of characters he loved as a kid. He'd sit in the hall and draw for hours, characters from Adventure Time, Sailor Moon, some Ghibli art like Totoro and Arietty. I smile to myself when I see the little Cat Bug I drew on there, next to the skull X carved in the wood with Dad’s knife.  
"Hey, Orio..."  
"Get out." He was tryna sleep again.  
"No," I chuckle, putting the bag down and putting food on the end table. "You gotta eat, hermano."  
He still didn't face me but I saw him shift like he wanted to. "'M not hungry, get out Skittles."   
I smirked. "You're not jackin' it, are you?"  
He whipped the covers off to prove he was still wearing those suffocating skinny jeans. "Why you gotta do that?!"  
"Why you gotta sleep in denim?" I plopped down, startling him out of sleep.   
"Cabron."  
"I could've thrown the pasta at you, ya tu saves."   
"It'd be warm..."  
"I guess," I gave him an unsure laugh, but he covered his eyes with that floppy mop of his. "Eat a little. Mira, I got some snacks you can keep in your desk."  
"Rats."  
"Are friends!" I grabbed the pasta off his end table. "They're little like you and gotta eat too!"  
"Pinche gacho," He pulled his knees up to his chest, scanning the floor for any rodent intruders. "Don't compare me to that..."  
"You been drawing?" I point at the open notebook on his end table. A sketch of a lion with some math sprinkled in.  
Orion mumbled. He does that a lot. I leaned over until our shoulders were touching, moved back to my place, then leaned into his shoulder again. I bopped us together like pong, feeling a growl vibrate through all 5'3 inches of him. I kept going, a Cheshire grin painting my face, bopping our shoulders together and lookin' up at the ceiling like I was completely oblivious. I heard him sigh, annoyed before he snatched the bowl from my hands.   
"Ay, good job!"  
"Shut up..." He stared into the bowl like it was the deep end of a pool and he had no floaties. He mixed it around a bit, an audible rumble from his tummy.   
I cocked my head, eyes all big and innocent. "Want me to do it?"  
"Do what?"   
I snickered to myself, taking the fork from his hand and waving it around his mouth. "Say 'ahhh'..."  
"NO!" He bristled, covering his face with his hands. "Don't-no...!" His olive skin turned a cute shade of pink. "Not a goddamn baby, Shane..."   
I shot out a laugh and tossed the fork in the bowl. "Well, either that, or ya do it yourself."  
"¡Chale!" He hissed.  
"No manches! See? 'M not X. I can do that too." I threw my hands behind my head and laid down.  
He was quiet for a good while after that, still cautious of the bland little meal like it was poison. He was doing well after the hospital, but something made him stop. I felt like it was somethin’ that vieja Karmin said, but he told me it wasn’t. He also started lying again.   
While he delicately examined his meal like a tiny bird, I stared at the ends of his giant Queen poster. He has me to thank for it. Usually, the ends of the poster would be ripped to hell, like his other ones. The Burning Forks poster has definitely seen better days, but the Queen poster was still shining in all its glory, surrounded by the bands we listen to now.   
"Why you never speak it with the twins?" He was playing with the noodles again.  
"Didn’t you hear ‘em outside? They practice enough, yellin' at each other."   
He exhaled out his nose. "You should yell at them too."  
I snorted. "I'm too busy yellin' at you."   
“You never yell at me.” He wasn’t laughing.  
A sudden, heavy weight on my chest resurfaced. I spent a hell of a time trying to keep those two from getting suspended, but as much as I did, I still hovered over Orion like a hawk. I dunno if it was because I could still smell the sterile hospital on him or just big brother instincts. As much as I was foolin' around, as much as I tried to joke about it, he wasn't happy. I could see in his face he hated the hover, he hated it when our parents did it, he hates it when I do it. But that’s not enough to stop me, not even a broken arm stopped me.   
I stare at him, the fluffy hair falling into the bowl. Am I his parent now? I bite my lip and dig my nails into my scalp, the weight in my chest only getting heavier. I didn't want to be his parent-their parent. I already had to drop out to-  
Stop.   
Think.  
Breathe.  
He right. I never yell. I just mess around until he and the other kids do what I need them to do. It's a lot easier to get to them when you're nice, they're so used to being sent to detention or yelled at. They're numb to it. But if you just smile and joke around, your threats of grounding or taking away possessions isn't hurtful, it's playful. It's something a brother would say rather than a mother. Bad dogs react faster to a kiss on the nose rather than a whack.   
We've had too many grey skies, months filled with a melancholy that we can't seem to laugh away, no matter how hard we try to paint it, it always goes back to being grey. I guess older siblings have it rough, we're the first to grow up and the last to be happy about it. There's misery in this house, and she craves company.   
I feel like I'm the only one who didn't take her hand. She's tantalizing, she creeps up when I'm driving or laying in bed. Any instance of silence, she's there, because I don't hear Mami laughing anymore. I don't hear Daddy bein' loud with the twin pistols. I don't even hear the beat of the door opening and closing with the song of the day. I fill the silence with music, beating the pain out on the skins as much as I can. I fill it with a calendar soaked in sharpie. I fill it with a tear or two in the shower.   
Orio smiled at the bowl of pasta and took a slow bite. I didn't say anything, just smiled at him, catching half of his out the corner of my eye. I nodded to myself, got up and gripped his shoulder, my mouth half open. I didn't know what I wanted to say, but he knew what I meant. He put his hand on mine and smiled at me with those eyes that Mami had.   
I relaxed into a smile. “You wanna tell me what’s been goin’ on, Orio?”  
“Just…” He shrugged. “A lot…” He took another bite.   
“Yeah, well. Life is a lot. Especially ours.”   
“You got new sticks…”  
I let out an easy laugh. “Yeh, figured I’d do somethin’ nice for myself. Gotta do that every once in a while.”   
He gave me a sad smile, his head tilted to the side like a puppy as he stared at me through those eyes. I felt my heart swell with joy as I stared at him, just like it did when I first saw him. It was late October and I was all hyped for Halloween but the sweetest gift was seeing my baby brother for the first time. He was really tiny, I wanted to hold him so bad but Mami said he was sensitive. Not much has changed since then.   
I heard the door downstairs slam open. “Ah, you fuck-!”  
“Shit…!” I rushed out, pausing at the door frame. I turned to Orio and gave a thumbs up, coupled with an uncertain smile. He stared at me wide-eyed, pulling his knees up to his chest. His joy turned to fear just from hearing X’s voice. I sighed, knowing damn well I had to keep the beast asleep until the night ended.   
Suburban white mom walking down the hall, I stopped X at the first step, his leather hanging off his arm, displaying the exhibit of unfinished sleeve of drunken doodles and various stick n’ poke experiments gone wrong. The left side of his head was shaved in the shape of a star, one of the points too goin’ to far towards the back of his head. I pressed my lips out to make ample escape for a sigh.  
“Wha’ you…?” He swayed a bit to the left. Great. Not like I couldn’t smell it.  
“Where have you been?” Wow, I really sounded like a dad with that one.  
“Shut the fuc’ up, skittle, you don’ know nothin’...”  
“Jesus, get to bed, man…” There we go, brother’s back.   
“No,” He stood up straight. “‘M not goin’ t’ bed, yer not mA.”  
I rolled my eyes and reached for him but he sloppily slapped me away. I couldn’t tell what he was on, I could smell the booze, it set my nose hairs on fire, but he wouldn’t let me get close enough to see the eyes. His mood was determined by the eyes; glazed, red or sleepy. All of them meant hell for Orio. I kept myself in front of him as he was leering at the stairs.   
He got close to me, annoyed. “Wha’ ya doin?”  
I shoved him back as respectfully as possible, but he went a little too far. His palm smacked the wall, shaking the mirror and Rocky’s little league photos. I crossed my arms, bored and annoyed with this routine we’d practiced every weekend. His boots hit the floor three times before he reached me again.  
“Go to bed. Your bed is that way.” I nodded at the couch.  
He got real close to my face, clearly satisfied those docs gave him some height so our eyes could meet. I couldn’t muster up a smile back, it’d usually throw him off.   
We had such a good day. Even if the twins were fighting, even if Orio was still having trouble eating, today was good for us. We were making it work but whenever I picked up the pieces he left behind, he’d always come and smack them out of my hand.   
“Youuu were feeding the dumbass again, wasn’t you?”  
I raised an eyebrow. “I feed you, why’d he be different?”  
“No, no, cuz he’s doin’ that thing…” He screamed past my shoulder, up the stairs. “YOU DOIN’ THAT PITY PARTY BULLSHIT AGAIN?! WE GOT OTHER PROBLEMS, DUMBASS!”  
An audible squeak escaped my throat when I heard the distant: “FUCK YOU!” I held my arms out, gripping the railing of the stairs with one hand and holding the wall with the other. This wasn’t rocket science, I gave X a glare as my stupid brain clicked the two issues together.  
“What’d you fuckin’ say?! Who the fuck you think-” He screamed past me.  
“Xavier, fuckin-” I shoved him hard this time. “Stop it!”   
He glared at me like a wild animal. A ‘fuck you’ wasn’t enough to start a fight with sober X but it was a green light for drunk X. He attempted to stealth past me, nearly cracking his head on the floor. I caught him in time and he flailed out of my grip, scoffing in disgust.  
“You gotta stop this, X…” I forced those words between my teeth. “For real…”  
“I gotta stop what? Stop what, huh?” He squared up to me like we were in prison.   
I cleared my throat and folded my hands in front of me, broadening my shoulders before I gave him a flash of my pearly whites. Our eyes locked like a sniper and their target between the crosshairs. As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to hit me. I knew he wasn’t because as soon as he tried, he’d be stuttering Spanish to the cross above the door with a broken wrist. I don’t ever fight my family, but he’s singing a song I wrote and he doesn’t even know the lyrics.   
My nostrils flared at the scent of the cheap booze, it lingered in my nose a lil too long. He stole it off some frat boys, clearly. Definitely cheap. I could tell from the way he was stumblin’, they spiked it with confidence so he feels like he’s the shit, like he’s part of them, their edgy friend that left school on purpose. Wasn’t for him. Cuz he never got in.   
He broke our eye contact when he got bored. “‘M not doin’ anythin’! He-he’s gotta learn to take the worst before it gets to ‘im!”  
“Yeah, but why do you gotta be the worst? Mira, it’s already gotten to him cuz you act like this whenever you want,” I shook my head, disgusted. “He wasn’t like this when you weren’t like this.”  
“I’m havin’ the time...of my life.” He crashed into the wall, car keys jingling and falling into my succulents and cacti.  
“Aye, mira! You’re all fucked up now and it’s getting old.” I sighed. “Before Karmin you were all about your littles brothers and sister. You cheered Rocky on during his games. You played Legos with Orio and Rainna. You ‘member when you used to stand in front of him and hold his hand like the big brother you said you were?” I shook my head. “Like you told Papa you were?”  
He sneered at me, pushing himself off the wall and pointing a bandaged finger between my eyes. “Fuck. You. Skittles.”  
I nodded. “Yeah, yeh, yeah.” I placed my hands behind my back, leaned forward and gave him my right cheek. If he was gonna punch me, he was gonna do it now, after that amazing comeback.   
“You-!” He stumbled back towards the door then stomped back at me again. “Y-you’re not the saint bishop angel, fuckhead! We got more inportant shit to worry about! More important than babying our faggy lil’-”  
Before I thought, I swung. It felt like the shortest blackout in history, my fist finding the fuse to turn my lights on and knock his out. My throat tightened when I heard skin hit the wood floor, I don’t even remember where I hit him. I stared at him crumpled on the ground like some pathetic stray cat, chestnut locks covering his face. I backed up, heel hitting the stairs.   
I didn’t wanna do that.   
I was waiting for him to do that.   
That’s the one thing I had power over, but I lost it just like that. My own strength betrayed me, a filter crumbling and revealing a temper that could rival his. I guess that’s why he never hit me.   
He didn’t look up but he was breathing pretty heavy. I was waiting for the bomb to drop, at any second he would lunge at me and we’d wrestle on the floor. He’d try to knock the wind outta me and I’d push his head into the ground as he yelled insult after insult. Then he’d start punching my legs and I’d get him in a headlock then that’d be the end. He’d flail for a minute, but that’d be it. And he’d know it.  
We didn’t do any of that. Instead, he got up and stumbled out the door. I went after him at first but shoes weighed my feet down, so I just stared. I shook my head, no, no, I can’t let him do that he’ll get killed. But at the same time, who knows what he’d do to Orion if I kept him here. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my hands and waited. For what, I don’t really know. I just waited.   
I was ripped between a family I was tryna save and a family that didn’t want to be. I didn’t know who was on what side, what they were going to do next or who would end up in the hospital next. I was always waiting, waiting to see what would happen in the next chapter of the Venniquin family fuck ups. I did everything I could not to take that name, not be like that, be like Dad and be a good Venniquin man. But it was always hard. I became their everything, the one person they could go to. Good, ol’ reliable Skittles. The cheerleader. The jokester. The hero. I bandaged their wounds even after opening them as I bled uncontrollably.   
“Skittles…?” Orio’s voice crumbled quietly behind me. I didn’t know what to say to him or if I should even turn around. Did he see that? Did he see me…?   
“Oye…” I pursed my lips then popped my tongue like Mami.“You hungry?”  
He said nothing.   
“No hay bronca. Lemme make you some...potatoes or somethin’” I turned to face him with a smile. “No hay bronca…” 

 

I didn’t really sleep. I kept thinking about X. I called and texted like some manic mom but he never responded. I figured he was with Karmin but part of me wished he wasn’t. He was so much better than that.   
It was my fault. For sure, it was my fault. I shouldn’t’ve hit him.  
But I couldn’t let him hit Orio again.  
I had to break the cycle. I couldn’t let him trigger my little brother anymore, it was only a couple months after he’d come back and he was still scared and fucked up. He was fragile like the baby we met when I was 2 and X was 3. No matter what happens, he’s our baby brother. We have to watch out for him.  
But that got me thinkin’ who the hell is watching out for X? Me? Barely, I just let him go out and berate him about it later. Three out of the five Venniquin kids go to therapy and that’s because I wanted time to play chef before they got home. X stopped going so he could...I dunno...fuck around?  
I sighed, covering my face with my pillow, biting the case. I didn’t like Karmin. I didn’t like her family. I didn’t like what she did to my big brother. She met him at a house party, one of those shitty ones with the white kids whose parents got too much money so they spend it on a pool, an open bar and vacations without bringing their teenagers. The only reason we got invited was because I was a decent conversationalist and X had an edgy look. We were both hot, according to all the ensemble girls and cheerleaders. I had about four chasing me around that night when I was just lookin’ to dance.  
I dunno what made Karmin lock onto X. He was a wallflower, drinking his watered down beer the last time I saw him that night. He was never really the party type, well, never really the people type. That was me. We were the Venniquin brothers, the classic kinda one is sweet and the other is sour. We stuck together pretty well, despite the clear cut line between us, we were still brothers. Passing period was the time for us to joke around and ram into each other like over excited pitbulls, showing our affection in hits and ruffles to the perfectly positioned hair. God forbid we had a class together, the principal knew Mami and Dad by a first name basis.  
As I was playing hooky with Samantha Serenity Smith, my eye caught my big brother dancing with the alleged twenty something who brought all the extra booze, her dancing all up on him like in those movies we weren’t supposed to watch but always did. If my eyebrows got any higher they’d recede into my hairline and I’d be known as the naked faced wonder. At the time, it was kinda impressive how X picked her up but at the same time, I thought she was nasty. All the guys were cheering him on and patting him on the back for scoring it with the girl who was way too old to be here.   
Glass shattered behind me for about the seventh time that night and for some reason it made me turn around. Heather Ann was draped over the booze table, her skirt high enough that you could see her asscheeks. If you wanna call what she had behind her an ass. Alcohol was dripping all over the floor and some football players were tryna save it by using every red solo cup they could find within their reach as makeshift buckets.   
“Oye, Jesus man…” I walked over to help Heather up and pull down her skirt. She hung on me, so grateful that Skittles came to her sweet, sweet rescue. I have no idea what she said to me, all I remember is her saying: “Thaaaaaaaannnnnnnkkkssss skitterss…” Which was close enough. Me and some other, less than sober, less than drunk girl helped her over to the couch. I turned back to find my brother but he wasn’t there. My heart dropped to the floor.   
Knock. Knock. Two knocks. That was Orio. I sat up from my bed and opened up, the kid standing there in his oversized shirt, rubbing his arm.   
“Que pedo wey?” I asked, running a hand through my hair.   
“I’m worried about you.” It was like looking at a baby deer.  
“Worried about me?” I chuckled. “You don’t gotta do that, hermano, you got enough to think about.”  
“No, like…” He sighed. “I dunno…”  
I ruffled his hair. “Get back to bed.”  
“No, no wait!” He pinched the sleeve of my shirt. “I uh...I’m...hungry, I guess. And...X broke the microwave.”  
I pouted. “Again?”  
“Yeah. It’s all black in there…”  
“That was probably Rocky. Remember he and Rainna wanted to do that egg versus biscuit experiment?”  
“I thought they were gonna do that in the teacher’s lounge…”  
“Do it in the where?”  
“Nothin’.” He followed me to the kitchen where I boiled some water for ramen.   
“Did X come back?” He asked.  
“No. I don’t think so.” I opened the package, the shriek of the plastic making Orio cringe.   
“He’s really pissing me off.”  
“I heard. You weren’t afraid to say something back,” I dropped the hunk o’ noodle in the water. “I was surprised.”  
“And scared.”  
I pursed my lips, poking the hard noodles. Yeah. I was. The last time he said something he was slammed against the wall and kicked in the ribs. For a millisecond I felt my chest swell with pride then it was overtaken by fear. I didn’t wanna say that but I didn’t wanna hang in silence either, listening to the water boil and Orio shuffle his bare feet on the cold floor.  
“What were the twins fighting about?” He broke the silence.  
“Uh somethin’ somethin’ therapy, somethin’ somethin’ Rain took Rocky’s phone and threatened to chuck it into the street.”   
He chuckled. “Did he hit ‘er?”  
“He wanted to, but he listens to his therapist.”   
Orio tilted his head, running a hand through his hair like I did. “You said you were gonna put us in family therapy, right?”  
“Ah…” I sighed as the noodles broke apart. “I’m tryin’, Orio. I’m definitely tryin’. But I need all of you here to do it.”   
“You said you’d make him.”   
“I know what I said,” I gritted my teeth, biting down my tone. “I know what I said, hermano. He’s just been getting worse as you guys are getting better.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m getting better?”  
“Yeah, yeah!” I tore open the broth with my teeth. “Jus’ cuz ya got bad days don’t mean you’re failin’.” I spit the wrapper onto the counter. “You’re really trying. I’m proud of you.”  
He straightened up, smiling at me with his teeth this time. It felt like they glowed in the dark, that’s how bright they were, his dimples shining in their light like I had never seen them before. Truthfully, he looked seven again. I mean like no offense, but he did. I could scoop him up and kiss his cheek but he’d probably hit me. He’d definitely hit me.  
“Get a bowl.” I flipped the stove off, draining some of the broth out. I heard something get knocked over and turned around to see Orio climbing the counter like a cat to grab a bowl from the highest shelf. I forgot I put ‘em there.  
“Oye, sorry, man!” I sounded like Mami.  
“I got it,” He hopped down with a red plastic bowl in his hand. “We need to do spring cleaning anway.” He smiled again. Two times in the same hour? That’s ridiculous!  
I poured his soup into the bowl and put the pot in the sink. He stirred it around, looking up at me like that seven year old used to. “Gracias, hermano…” I gave him a simple thumbs up and smile before he walked towards the stairs, blowing on his midnight meal. I sighed when he turned away, letting my face relax and posture droop in exhaustion. I cracked my fingers a few times before heading back to my room when I heard him call me.  
I stopped by the stairs. “What’s wrong?”  
He gave me a big grin and said: “Te quiero mucho, hermano. Mucho, mucho.”


End file.
